Nobody tells you what it feels like when everything finally goes right. Doesn't come with fireworks or champagne or orchestral swells.
It comes with a kind of terror you weren't prepared for.
Sienna's name is glowing on the screen like it's been etched in fucking gold. I stare at it twenty times, and each time it feels impossible to believe.
Then she launches herself into my arms, laughing so hard she can't breathe. I spin her around like we're in some cheesy rom-com, both of us yelling "You're in!" over and over like saying it enough will make it real.
"This is happening," she gasps, gripping my shoulders so tight I can feel her pulse hammering against my chest. "I actually made it."
"You didn't just make it," I say, grinning like a complete idiot. "You bulldozed your way in and took names."
She kisses me—hard, fast, loaded with adrenaline and disbelief and months of pent-up everything. Her laptop crashes to the floor somewhere behind us. Hoodie slips off one arm.
I don't stop what comes next because nothing else matters right now.
Her fingers curl in my shirt as I pull her closer, lifting her onto the bed like we don't have another second to waste. Mouths stay locked, her breath hot against mine, my body already strung tight from everything we've been holding back.
I shove my hand under her tank top, dragging it off, baring her to the low city light sliding through blinds.
"Take these off," she mutters, already fumbling with my belt buckle.
"Bossy tonight," I murmured against her neck.
"Shut up and fuck me."
Christ. Direct as always.
I comply because apparently I'm incapable of saying no to anything she wants, especially when she's looking at me like I'm the only thing standing between her and spontaneous combustion.
Her skin's fever-warm under my hands, and when I kiss the hollow of her throat, she makes this sound that shoots straight through me like electricity.
"Ford," she breathes, and my name in her mouth sounds like prayer and demand and promise all at once.
This isn't just celebration sex. This is victory and relief and the kind of desperate need that makes you forget professional boundaries ever existed.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as I move over her, and she looks up at me with eyes that are bright with accomplishment and dark with want.
"We did it," she whispers.
"You did it," I told her. "You fucking conquered everything."
She pulls me down for another kiss, and this time it tastes like triumph.
That did it. I stripped down fast. Her leggings were gone in seconds, panties soaked through.
I ran my hand over her bare thigh, spread her open, and groaned when I felt how wet she already was.
Her skin is warm beneath my hands—soft, flushed, and trembling just a little as I drag my fingertips over her thighs, across her hips, up the smooth plane of her stomach to her breasts. I take my time. I need to. I want to memorize every inch of her.
Then her shirt slips off, and she’s bare in front of me.
She shivers in the cool air, but I close the distance and warm her with my mouth—slow, open-mouthed kisses over her collarbone, down her shoulder, then lower. I feel her breath hitch as I reach her breast and close my lips over one taut nipple.
“Ford…” she whispers, her voice breaking as I suck gently, then harder. Her knees buckle. She’s already coming undone, and I’ve barely started.
I lift her easily—one arm under her thighs, the other around her back—and carry her to the benches. She clings to me like she never wants to let go, but when I set her down, I hold her thighs, grounding her, needing to just look.
She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I was never supposed to have.
“Spread your legs, baby,” I rasp, my voice more need than sound.
She does—no hesitation—and I drop to my knees between them. But before I can bury my mouth in her, she stops me. Her hands tug at the waistband of my pants, dragging them low enough to free me.
My cock springs out—aching, swollen, already leaking—and her fingers curl around me, slow and teasing.
“You’ve been teasing me all night,” she murmurs, stroking me. “Feels like I should return the favor.”
“Sienna…” My breath shudders out of me as her mouth wraps around me, warm and wet, taking me deep. I groan, gripping the edge of the bench to keep from losing control.
“Fuck,” I growl. “If you keep that up, I’m not gonna last.”
She pulls off, lips swollen, eyes shining with mischief. “Then take me before you lose it.”
I don’t need telling twice.
I haul her up, spin her around, and press her chest to the lockers. One hand holds her firm, the other spreads her open. I drag my cock between her folds—slick, hot, begging for me—and then I slide in, inch by inch.
She gasps, fingers clawing at the metal. She’s so fucking tight, so warm I feel like I’m coming undone just being inside her.
“Jesus Christ,” I groan. “You feel so fucking good.”
I start to move—deep, driving thrusts that echo off the tiles, our skin slapping hard and wet. My fingers slide around to her clit, circling, coaxing.
“I want to feel you come,” I snarl into her ear.
She does.
Her body clenches around me, legs trembling, voice cracking on my name as she falls apart. I don’t let up. I fuck her through it, harder, deeper, until she’s sobbing and shaking against the lockers.
Then I pull out, spin her, and lift her back onto the bench.
I slam into her again, and she moans, biting her lip as her head falls back. Her hips meet mine, desperate for more. One of my hands works her clit again—tight circles—and her body arches, close again already.
“I’m close,” I whisper, my forehead pressed to hers. “Where do you want it?”
She wraps her legs around me tighter. “Inside. I want all of you. I want to feel you tomorrow.”
That’s it.
My mouth crushes hers, and with one last thrust, I come hard, spilling deep inside her. I groan her name, feel her clench around me again, one more orgasm shuddering through her body. We cling to each other, sweaty and shaking, breathless.
The room goes still. Only the sound of our breathing fills the silence.
I gently pull out, catching her when she wobbles, and lift her again, wrapping a towel around her trembling body. I sit down with her in my lap, holding her like I’ll never let go.
“Sienna…” I whisper.
She presses her forehead to mine. “Ford…”
And then we both say it at the same time.
“I love you.”
Silence. A beat. And then we laugh—quiet, stunned, breathless.
I cup her face, kiss her slow. “That wasn’t just sex.”
She shakes her head. “No,” she breathes. “It wasn’t.”